Funeral For a Friend
by Lara-Van
Summary: Post-Heroes oneshot. All the Heroes still living muse on the loss of someone they knew well, and not at all. Someone who saved the world, when they all thought it was beyond hope.


Official Warning: This contains spoilers. Even though I'm pretty sure this isn't how it's going to end up, there are certain things that do have to do with spoilers put out for Volume 5, so be warned. Also, there is a large time jump here, setting Redemption several years in the future from where it is in canon.

--Hiro--

I twitched my shoulder uncomfortably. I've become so used to carrying my katana everywhere, it's strange to be without it. But I wouldn't carry it today. Not to his funeral. It would do him a dishonor, I think. Every time we met I was armed to the teeth in one way or another, and this last time, I don't think it would be right.

Ando leans against the bar next to me, taking a sip of his sake. I'm not drinking. I was never very interested in alcohol, and now that I've devoted myself full-time to the hero business, it doesn't seem like a good idea. But though I abstain, it's certainly not stopping anyone else. After we left the graveyard, all of us retired immediately to the nearest pub.

It's strange, I think to myself, to see us all here in one place. Our paths have all crossed at one point or another in the last few years, but aside from that desperate night on Kirby Plaza when we tried to stop an exploding man, we have never all been gathered together like this. Well, and aside from what happened three days ago, of course. I survey the room, looking at all the familiar faces...

--Micah--

The drink in front of me is supposed to be a kiddy cocktail. Molly and I are underage, after all. But Tracy slipped us a flask of whiskey to spice them up with. She shouldn't have. I know she shouldn't have. But it's not a big deal, not today. I need it.

It was hard for me, when I realized what he was about to do, on that storm-swept battlefield. Much harder than I could ever have expected. I hardly knew him, after all. We had only met a few times. But I sensed something of my mother in him, even that first time. She did bad things too, sometimes. But underneath the guns and the mental problems, she was a good person. Turns out he was, too. I told him so.

And it seems I wasn't the only one. Claire believed in him, after she stopped hating him. And there was someone else, someone none of us would ever have expected, who cared about him and believed he could be a good man.

I glance across the table at Molly. She'll be sixteen tomorrow, just a year younger than me. God, she's beautiful... She used to keep her dark hair cropped so short, because her sensei required it, but ever since she moved back from India for good, she's been letting it grow and it's at her shoulders again. Her dark eyes meet mine over our spiked drinks, and she smiles, taking my hand. I'm so lucky to have her in my life. I know we're young, but I can really see whatever we have going somewhere. As Tracy put it, we're just kids, but we've both seen more than most adults, and I think I must love her.

I haven't asked her what she thinks about today. She used to hate him, and not without reason. But something tells me she let go of that. How could you not, after what he did for us?

--Angela--

This was an ending I never saw. It happens that way sometimes. If someone makes a snap decision, without ever thinking about it beforehand, the future changes so quickly, I never see it coming. That was what happened this time.

I'm not sure who I'm mourning; my sister or her murderer. I suppose both, in a way. Although he destroyed her body, I don't think he was really her murderer. I can't hold that against him, because it was me who killed my sister. When I left Alice alone in Coyote Sands all those years ago, it broke her and drove her to do the evil things she did over the last few months. So I can't blame Sylar for what he did. And more than that- he gave me back my son.

Ever since he was a boy, I dreamt of Peter's future. I dreamed about the bomb, and I dreamed about the virus, and I dreamed about the formula. But I always knew that it would lead to this day. Well, not this day, exactly. Three days ago. I always knew that Peter's life was marching toward a tragic end at the hands of Samson Gray and a woman (I only realized recently that the woman was my sister). And it didn't happen. Sylar took his place, and saved us all.

It was just as my granddaughter cried out that fateful night before throwing herself out a window: the future is not written in stone. But I didn't believe her, then. It took a serial killer who once thought himself to be my son to show me that she had always been right...

--Matt--

Janice keeps checking her watch. It's getting late, and we promised the sitter we'd be home before midnight. Matty is seven years old now, and although he's gotten good at controlling his power, sometimes he slips when he's tired. As a result, Janice isn't really concentrating on the here and now, she's so focused on worrying about our son.

I can't blame her, I suppose. I read her mind and smile at the chaotic dance of worrying thoughts I find there. She always was a worrier. "It'll be fine," I whisper. "He can keep his own secrets for a few minutes more."

She leans her head against my shoulder. "I know," she says.

"Well," I say, "if worst comes to worst, we can have Peter wipe Tiffany's mind."

She bites her lip nervously. "He can do that?" she asks tensely.

"I guess so," I say, unable to keep from chuckling a little at her frightened expression. Although she's very used to my weirdness and our son's strange ability, Peter always freaked her out. "He's met the Haitian, so probably." Despite her concerns about my empathic friend, she manages to smile up at me.

I smile back at her. Every day, I'm thankful that we got a second chance to make our marriage work. She was always the one for me, even when I was with Daphne. I can't pretend otherwise, even though I tried during those peaceful months after the Pinehearst explosion. Janice is my wife, and Matthew is my son, and I know that I'm going to fight like hell to keep things good for them.

Not that that's really going to be necessary now. The Company's rival, Silvercrest, is ended, and Samson Gray and Alice are dead. And I can't believe it, but it's all due to a man I spent the last seven years hunting off and on. Impossible as it seems, he was a hero in the end.

--Luke--

Who'd have thought it? I found out I had a brother and lost him all in the same day.

Of course, as far as I was concerned, Sylar was my big brother for years now. That's how I saw him. Even though he killed people and did bad things, I worshipped him. He was so strong, so tough. I wanted to _be_ him, in a lot of ways. After he sent me away that first time, I tracked him down. Every so often I would actually catch up to him and we would travel together for awhile. And then he'd get tired of me and ditch me again. But I kept following him. It wasn't like I had anywhere else to go. He pretended like it annoyed him, but I knew that somewhere beneath the armor, he was actually kind of touched.

And then, in the final moments, when Samson was firing up that weapon he and Alice built, and we all thought we were going to die, Sylar told me what he'd discovered that he'd kept from me all these years. I really was his little brother. Back when our father was young, still living next door to my mother and official dad, he and Mom had a fling. When it turned out that she was pregnant, my "dad" left since I wasn't his kid.

For a minute, I was mad as hell at him. But then I realized what he had planned. He had my ability. He had _her_ ability, the one he would never talk about, too. And I knew the other power he had that no one knew he'd retained- he was radioactive. But I was the only one who knew until the moment when he saved us all.

What were we to each other? Confidantes? Partners? Kindred spirits? Maybe. But I think mostly we were just brothers.

--Claire--

I hate this. I hate sitting here and staring into my beer and listening to Tracy reminisce about a man she barely knew. As far as I know, she never even spoke to him. But of course, now that he's the big hero who saved us all, she wants to make like she was tight with him from the beginning.

And I know that he'd hate it, too. The bar is empty except for our group, and for the most part, we're morose. He spent so much of his life in darkness, and I don't think he'd want his death spent the same way. He would want this to be a celebration.

Part of me expects Peter to do something about it, but as I glance at him across the bar, I realize that he's too distracted to think about that. And so I take matters into my own hands.

It was something I was always bad at. I was always The Cheerleader, always hiding myself away behind my pompoms and popularity and waiting to be saved. And everyone, from Peter to my fathers, enabled me in my self-centered helplessness. That was what he changed in me. He taught me how to stand up and do what had to be done. Even when I hated him, he was showing me the way. Trying to kill him was what started it. And then, later, when he came to me trapped in the semblance of my biological father, begging for my help in putting his split personality back together, he began to show me more what I could be, if I took a stand for myself.

And then, after his fractured mind was healed, for awhile I hated him again. He left. I had thought that maybe he could be good, but he took to the villain's life again. But he proved them wrong in the end. He proved us all wrong, in the eleventh hour.

And so I'm going to honor him in the only way I know how. He gave me a music box once, when he was still unsure whether he was Nathan or Sylar or Gabriel or all three. He told me that he thought music could heal the soul. If my own state is anything to go on, the souls in this room are grieving. Pulling a quarter from my pocket, I make my way across the smokey room to the vintage jukebox in the corner...

--Peter--

I run my fingers across the deep cut that now slashes across my face. Even my regeneration couldn't heal this scar. Although all my other injuries healed instantly, this has lingered on and is barely scabbed over. I don't know why it won't heal. Maybe subconsciously, I don't want it to. He gave this wound to me, just three days ago. Everyone in this room has his mark on them somewhere. Mine is just more visible than most.

"Don't fuss at it, baby," my wife Emma says, pulling my hand away from my face. "You'll open it up again."

I smile at her and lean in to kiss her, tangling my hands in her long blonde hair. She responds enthusiastically to my kiss, and I have to remind myself that we're in a public place. When I'm able to pull myself away from her, I wonder dazedly what I've done to deserve her. At a time when I was at my worst, cutting myself off from everyone I loved, she found me and saved me. She showed me what being a hero really meant, and through her love, helped me to rediscover my powers. Everything I am today, I am because of her.

My love-struck train of thought is interrupted as loud music blasts over the bar's speakers. I glance across the room and spot Claire standing next to the jukebox. I recognize the song. It's Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. I probe her mind, wondering what she's up to. _His requiem,_ she thinks, probably realizing that I'm listening in. _One of his favorite songs._

"Claire," I say softly, shaking my head. "She says it's his requiem."

Emma nods. "Fitting," she says with a smile as she listens to the lyrics. "Claire knew him better than any of us. Except... well..." She glances across the room to the far end of the bar. I know why she's stopped speaking when I follow her gaze. We're all hesitant to say her name aloud, almost afraid to draw her attention.

Until Hiro found her, living in a rundown apartment in Queens that used to belong to Sylar, none of us knew what had passed between them. None of us had any idea. But even after all that he did to her, she loved him still. We all miss him, for one reason or another. But Elle is dealing with a kind of deep grief I've never seen in anyone before. She was there the day he died, along with the rest of us. She tried to stop him. But he couldn't be stopped, and she hasn't spoken since sacrificed himself to save us all.

Emma and I tried to talk to her, tried to comfort her, but neither of us could break through the silent wall she's built around herself. As she tries to drink herself into oblivion, Claire approaches her and sits silently by her.

I sigh, turning away. I can't believe he's gone. It feels like my whole life has been spent fighting him. Even that last day, he was on the other side. He was helping his father and my aunt as they built their doomsday bomb.

And then, at the last second, he turned against them. He must have learned something from his time as my brother, because he repeated the sacrifice Nathan made on Kirby Plaza, taking Samson, Alice, and their weapon into the heart of the hurricane Alice had created and detonating.

"It's getting late," Emma says. "We should probably pick the kids up. I'm sure Heidi's sick of dealing with them. She's got enough to put up with, now that Simon's manifested."

We make our goodbyes to our friends and step out into the rainy October night. "You want to do the honors?" I ask her. She shrugs and puts her hand on my shoulder. She blinks, and we're standing on Heidi's front step...

--Elle--

I can't believe it, but Pom-Pom is actually a comforting presence right now. She may have hated him at one time, but she came to understand him in the end. She's the only other person who knows him like I do. But I don't think she misses him like I do. He wasn't essential to her happiness the way he was for me. Whatever. It doesn't matter now, does it? He left us both alone, didn't he.

And so I sit there with Claire, my one-time nemesis, and she drinks her beer and I drink a stiff Scotch, and we both know we're honoring Gabriel, without saying a word. One by one, the others trickle out of the bar. Peter and Emma go first. The Parkmans leave next, and they're followed by Mohinder and Molly. I didn't notice when Micah and Tracy left, but I know they left before Hiro and Ando. Eventually, it's only me and Claire left in the pub.

"They're about to close," Claire says finally. "You ready to go?" I shake my head. She shrugs, but she leaves anyway. I think she knows I need to be alone right now.

Tears pour down my face as the barmaid disappears into the back room. Oh god, I'm alone... I'm _always_ going to be alone. Even after my resurrection, when I knew that I would never be able to be with him again, there was still the promise of him out there. But now he was gone, for good this time. And yet... maybe this is a good thing. For seven years, I've held on to him, even though I was so sure Gabriel was gone, lost to Sylar.

I always believed in him, that he could change, that he could be good. And he proved me right, he showed them all, all the ones who doubted him, at the last possible moment. He saved the world. He saved us all. But I was always beyond saving. All I wish now is that I could have helped. I wish I could have gone with him.

~Fin~


End file.
